David Coe - Shapers of Darkness

Pronjed struggled to keep his anger in check, knowing that another misstep might give the Weaver cause to kill him. “Yes, Weaver,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll see to it right away.”

“I expect no less.”

An instant later the archminister awoke with a start. His sleeping shirt and hair were damp with sweat, and his head and gut still ached. It could have been worse, he knew, remembering the shattering of the bones in his hand.

Or had the Weaver in fact done all that he dared?

The Weaver himself had made clear that his war with the Eandi courts was approaching, that its imminence might have saved Pronjed’s life. Perhaps it even kept the man from inflicting greater injuries on the archminister. Now was not the time for him to risk giving Pronjed visible injuries that would be difficult for the archminister to explain.

But what will he do to me once the war is over?

The only way to ensure his own safety was to do the Weaver’s bidding and prove himself invaluable to the movement. He rose and dressed, deciding that he would first seek out the queen mother. He knew better than to think that Chofya had much influence with the regent, but Pronjed’s rapport with the woman remained strong, and speaking with her seemed the easiest way to begin what promised to be a long, difficult day.

He found Chofya in the gardens, overseeing the first plantings of the season. The day was already growing warm and the first swifts to return to Solkara were darting overhead, black as pitch against a sapphire sky.

“Good morrow, Your Highness,” Pronjed said as he approached her.

She looked up, shading her dark eyes with a slender hand. She wore a simple brown dress and soft leather shoes, much like those of the workers around her. But with her exquisite features and long black hair, which she had tied back from her face, none would have confused her for a common laborer. She still looked every bit the queen.

“Hello, Archminister. Kalyi isn’t here. I believe she’s with one of her tutors.”

“Actually, Your Highness, I was looking for you.”

She frowned. “For me?”

“Yes. May I speak with you for a moment?”

She glanced briefly at the laborers, as if reluctant to leave them. Then she followed the archminister to a deserted corner of the garden.

“Has something happened?” she asked, as he halted by an empty flower bed and turned to face her once more.

“No, Your Highness. Not yet. But you must know that we may be on the brink of war.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, looking troubled. “There seems to be nothing I can do to prevent it.”

He gaped at her, no doubt looking like a fool. “Prevent it? Why would you want to do such a thing?”

She looked away, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter, Archminister. I’m no longer queen, and even when I was, my opinions on these matters meant nothing. I managed to have Kalyi placed on the throne. Beyond that, my responsibilities to the land have never amounted to much. And it’s probably just as well.”

Pronjed cursed himself for beginning this conversation so clumsily. He needed to enlist the queen as an ally, and already he had made her more reluctant even to discuss the matter. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I shouldn’t have reacted as I did. Please tell me why you object to this war.”

“I object to all wars, Archminister. I always have, though I kept my reservations to myself while Carden was alive.”

“Don’t you think it possible that a victory over Eibithar could strengthen the realm? Don’t you believe it would ensure a successful reign for your daughter?”

She shrugged. “I suppose it might.”

“And still you oppose it.”

Chofya eyed him briefly, seeming to search his face for some sign of what lurked behind his words. “You truly wish to know why I’m against it?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Very well. My husband viewed war as the solution to all problems. He never learned the art of statecraft or mastered the finer points of leadership. He ruled Aneira by threatening violence. And because of this, he was feared and hated throughout the land. Kalyi might not yet be queen, but her regency has begun. She’ll spend the next six years learning how to lead-all that she witnesses in this time will shape her, determining what sort of queen she’ll be. I don’t want her to rule as her father did. I don’t want her to turn to her army or her assassins every time she finds herself at odds with a duke or another realm.”

For a time, Pronjed said nothing, weighing what she had told him. Chofya, he realized, would never be his ally in this fight. At least not wittingly.

“You think me foolish,” she said at last, a thin smile on her lips.

“Not at all, Your Highness. On the contrary, I believe the queen is fortunate to have you nearby.”

“But still, you disagree with me.”

He acknowledged the point with a small nod. “I’m afraid I do. I hope that Kalyi will become the sort of leader you want her to be. But I believe that in this case, war is justified. We have an opportunity to weaken Eibithar, perhaps even destroy her. Isn’t it possible that by ridding ourselves of such a powerful enemy, we make it easier for the queen to rule with a gentle hand?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “But even if we rid ourselves of the threat to the north, how long will it be before we face another from Sanbira or Uulrann, or even from Braedon? There will always be those who counsel war, Archminister, who see dangers in one realm or another. Better she should learn from the start that war is to be avoided, that other solutions are preferable.”

He forced a smile. “Of course, Your Highness. I understand.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“Think nothing of it.” He gestured toward the laborers working at the far end of the gardens, and together they walked in silence back to where she had been when he first found her.

“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Your Highness,” he said, bowing to her. “Please forgive the intrusion.” He started to walk away.

“How soon do you think the war will begin?” she asked, forcing him to face her once more.

“I’m not certain, though I expect we’ll be at war before the end of the growing turns.”

Chofya nodded, tight-lipped and grim.

Pronjed made his way back toward the nearest of the castle towers. Before he had gone far, however, he glanced up toward the top floor of the castle and saw Numar standing at his window, marking the archminister’s progress through the castle ward. Their eyes met for just a moment, before the regent shifted his gaze, but he didn’t close the shutters, nor did he step away from the window. And almost as soon as Pronjed looked away, he sensed the man’s eyes upon him again.

He continued on toward the presence chamber of the Solkaran duke, Henthas, the regent’s older brother. He didn’t relish the thought of relying on this man for anything, but he couldn’t do all that the Weaver expected without help.

Henthas offered only a sneer by way of welcome.

“What do you want?” he demanded, sounding every bit the Jackal.

“Just a word, my lord. It won’t take long.” I’m no more eager to be here than you are to have me .

“Very well. What is it?” From the tone of the duke’s voice one might have thought that Pronjed was keeping him from some crucial task, but as far as the minister could tell, the man had simply been sitting by his window, staring out at the ward and the soldiers training there.

The archminister glanced at the servants standing by the door, before again regarding Henthas.

The duke twisted his mouth as if annoyed, but a moment later he ordered the servants from the chamber.